


Ora pro nobis

by BookedMyTicketToHell



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Abduction, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Captivity, Catharsis, Dark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Gross, Heavy Angst, Horror, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kidnapping, Knifeplay, Knives, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Serial Killers, Size Difference, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence, Weapons, Weapons Kink, Yikes, disgusting sin, heinous, honestly just all the tags, im so sorry, implied necrophilia which I PROMISE will not be a part of this fic in detail, law and order svu sounds, this is the work of actual satan, vile - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-07-16 03:56:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16077884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookedMyTicketToHell/pseuds/BookedMyTicketToHell
Summary: Rey escapes from Unkar Plutt, eager to hitchhike her way to the city to begin a new life.Kylo Ren spots a girl by the side of the rural Washington road, helplessly standing unsheltered in the pouring rain.Their paths cross, and Rey finds herself grateful for the company of the kind, generous stranger. Or does she?





	1. Guidance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MalevolentReverie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalevolentReverie/gifts).



> This is a dark. fucking. fic. Mind the tags. 
> 
> You were warned.
> 
> READ THE MOTHERFUCKING TAGS. 
> 
> I don't condone any real-life non-con or violence.

Rey stood roadside, a faded green jacket hanging loosely over what few curves she had. It was raining, moisture seeping in through the tears in her clothing, irritating the cuts riddling her skin. When Unkar Plutt had left for an out-of-town conference three days ago, Rey knew it was her chance to escape. She gathered her meager belongings, grabbed the two protein bars allotted for that day, and made a run for it.

Rey hadn’t thought much about where to go. When she ran through the forests surrounding Plutt’s cabin, all she tried to do was keep running ahead. She thought that eventually she had to reach a road— _right_?

She wasn’t sure how long it had taken her to get here: an interstate highway cutting through the thick forest of Colville National Forest. She had camped out among the trees for days, traversed streams, and climbed over rock formations. It had taken a toll on her clothing; what once seemed a sensible combination of jeans, sneakers, top, and jacket, were now torn, wet, and dirty. She could hardly blame the motorists who had refused to stop their cars for her.

Rey held out her hand now, thumb pointed up. Her arm strained from the effort. Traffic was light—she thought she’d seen less than fifty cars today—but she was terrified of missing one. So, she stood, steadfast and determined to get a ride… _somewhere_.

She hoped for Spokane or Seattle: somewhere with resources. Shelters. Food banks. Somewhere she could hole up for a while, regroup, and find her way.

As Rey lingered on the edge of Colville-Tiger Road, Kylo hummed along to a late-1990s-and-early-2000s hits station. Honestly, he couldn’t remember feeling so relaxed; the time in nature had done him good. He wished he could stay with her longer—he preferred to take his time—but he had patients waiting. So, he’d packed up this morning, lugged the supplies to the trunk of his car, and started driving home.

He did hate to know that there was still dirt caked in the rubber of his boots and the treads of his wheels, but he’d have to take care of it later. For now, lying low and driving according to speed limit was good enough for him.

Rain began to fall harder, suddenly coming down in torrential sheets. Kylo turned on his windshield wipers, which struggled to keep up; Rey pulled her jacket tight around her shivering frame.

When the man rounded the corner of the bend up ahead, he spotted her: small and pathetic, a drowned rat helpless on the side of the road. He swallowed and slowed his vehicle.

Rey’s heart jolted when another car, a dark SUV, came into view. It had just begun to pour, and she was _done_ getting soaked. She hoisted both hands in the air, trying desperately to flag the driver down. Dignity be damned.

It was like Christmas morning when the car did slow, _did_ come to a halt by the shoulder of the road. The driver rolled the window down— _his_ window down, she noted—and said something to her.

“I can’t hear you!” she shouted over the heavy rainfall.

“Do you need a ride?” he yelled again, louder, gesturing her forward.

She didn’t need to be asked twice. Rey nodded emphatically, already tugging on the handle of the car door.

“Are you sure?” She was already halfway in, every fiber of her clothing dripping all over what appeared to be very nicely upholstered seats.

“It’s no problem.”

She looked at him— _really_ looked at him—after she pulled the door shut. Warm, deep, brown eyes met hers. They crinkled at the edges, accompanying an inviting smile. The man had dark, relatively long hair: it spilled almost to his shoulders. He had a trimmed mustache and goatee, well-kempt and flattering, and beauty marks were speckled across his face.

_Oh._

His car felt equally inviting. Rey smelled hints of cinnamon and spices like you might find in a chai latte on a cold winter day. The leather seats had already begun to warm—heated, she thought—and they seemed to cradle her exhausted body. She sunk into them and shivered in place.

“Hi there.”

“Hi yourself.” She blushed, cursing her cold, wet clothes.

“Were you out here long?” he asked, turning up the heater observantly.

Rey nodded noncommittally as the man pulled off the shoulder and back onto the road. “I think so.”

“You _think_ so?” he repeated, a little hint of amusement in his voice. _Or maybe it’s pity_.

“I’m not really sure how long it’s been.” Rey fell silent for a moment. “I don’t really blame anyone for not stopping, especially in this condition—” she gestured to her sopping, dirty form.

He glanced over, then back to the road, then back to Rey.

“Do you need help? Can I call someone?”

She thought her eyes might roll up in her head. Thank _god_. How grateful she was for this stranger and his kindness.

“I—” she struggled to find the words, “Just a ride would be great.”

“Where are you going?”

“Spokane or Seattle, maybe?”

“Maybe? You don’t know where you’re going?”

The stranger’s eyes were crinkling again fondly as his gaze darted between her and the road, a little amused expression on his lips.

“I… I’m starting a new life. Or something like that.”

“Ah,” he murmured like he understood perfectly, “Well, I’m on my way back home to Snoqualmie. I could drop you in Seattle proper if you’d like?”

“That would actually be amazing. But I don’t want to trouble you—”

“No trouble.”

“Are you sure? I feel like such a big inconvenience already—”

The man held up one large hand, his eyes trained ahead on the road.

“Really,” he said gently, “it’s fine, I’m going there anyway. I need to pick something up from my office.”

“Oh.” Rey formed the word slowly, giving herself permission to accept the gesture. She was quiet for a moment, staring out the window, watching the trees race past them.

“Where do you work?”

 “The University of Washington. I’m a professor of orthopedics and a surgeon at the university medical center.”

“Oh,” Rey found herself saying again. “Um, congrats.”

The man beside her chuckled and gave her a quizzical, amused look, one eyebrow quirked. “What’s your name?”

“Oh, Rey. Like rays of light, but with an e instead of an a.”

“Kylo, like Kyle but with an o instead of an e.”

The girl grinned broadly. “Nice to meet you, Kylo.”

 

* * *

 

 

“I’m going to stop for gas,” Kylo murmured after a while. The two had exchanged small talk—commenting on the trees, on the weather—and a stretch of comfortable silence. They had come to a rest stop just outside of Spokane. Trucks lined the parking lot; a small building sat adjacent to it.

“Mhm,” Rey replied, stretching her legs out. “Sounds good.”

“You want to come? You’re welcome to stay put if you’re more comfortable here.”

“I’ll just stay if that’s okay.” Truthfully, Rey’s legs ached from the days of activity. It felt heavenly to sit in the plush seat; she was in no hurry to move.

The man—Kylo—nodded. “That’s fine, Rey. I might get a bite to eat. Can I get you something?”

“Oh.” It was quickly becoming the word of the day. “ _Um_ ,” she hesitated, blushing a furious red, “It’s fine, I haven’t got any money.”

Kylo’s expressed softened. He smiled gently. “That’s alright,” he assured her. It suddenly occurred to her how deep and dulcet his tone was, how his voice wrapped around her like a warm blanket. It felt like she was hearing him for the first time. “My treat.”

Rey shifted uncomfortably; she always hated accepting favors, especially from strangers—

“You’ve already been too kind—”

He held a hand up, just as he’d done on the road. “Rey, it’s no problem. Is there a particular kind of food you like?” He craned his neck for a second, staring ahead at the small building. “Our options are probably limited to fast food, but…”

“Anything is fine, really.”

Kylo nodded. “I’ll be right back.”

Rey allowed her eyes to flutter shut when he’d gone. She was suddenly aware of just how hungry and tired she really was. Her body had been in fight-or-flight mode for days, the adrenaline finally catching up to her now that she was safe. She shifted, leaning the seat back a little, and snuggled into the warm leather.

She woke with a start to the sound of the car door opening. Rey watched, bleary-eyed, as the man—much, much taller than she’d realized—folded his long body with impossible grace and climbed into the driver’s seat.

Rey rubbed her eyes.

“Here, honey.”

The man handed her a cardboard box branded with the McDonald’s logo and set a large drink into the cupholder on her side of the vehicle. Rey pulled aside the top tabs of the box, peered in, and gaped.

A chicken sandwich sat wrapped at the bottom, flanked by a large set of fries and something doughy-looking.

“You should eat the baked apple pie while it’s still hot,” the man murmured, looking over his shoulder while he backed the car up. He held his own chicken sandwich in the other hand, dwarfing it with the sheer size of his palm.

“You didn’t have to get me all this,” she muttered quietly.

“You looked hungry,” he said simply. “Sorry about the Coke, I didn’t know what you’d like, but teenagers always love fountain drinks.”

“Teenagers?”

The man cast a wry glance at her. “Aren’t you? Eighteen to twenty-two was my guess.”

Rey paused, cup in hand. He sounded so clinical.

“Er, yeah. I’m nineteen.”

He didn’t reply, and Rey took an experimental sip.

She hadn’t had soda in a long time—she didn’t even particularly like it—but _shit_ , it tasted so good now. She hadn’t realized how thirsty she was until presented with a cold drink. Rey leaned back and started chugging.

“Jesus Christ!”

Rey jumped—the man had both eyes planted on her and looked, for a moment, _very_ angry. Her eyes widened; she paled.

“Easy,” Kylo murmured, forcing his tone back into gentle territory. He couldn’t have her chugging that, it wasn’t safe—

“I—sorry. Just thirsty,” Rey said quietly.

He gripped the steering wheel, hard. “It’s fine, honey. Just… easy does it. It’s not good for you to drink so fast.”

Rey felt her cheeks glow warm again. “I guess I should trust the doctor.”

 _There we go._ Kylo nodded his encouragement and looked down at his watch, taking note of the time. _Trust the doctor._

The girl beside him nibbled on a fry and took a bite of her sandwich. He bit into his own; for a while, he was content to let his thoughts wander, staring ahead at the road. The weather had cleared up a bit: only a light drizzle muddled visibility. He thought back to the days he’d spent sleeping under the stars. His cock twitched in his jeans and he wondered, vaguely, whether all that rain would speed up or slow down the process—

The girl next to him yawned.

“Sleepy?”

She rubbed her eyes again, a little color on her cheeks. “Mhm, apparently.”

“Here,” the man murmured, not taking his eyes on the road as he reached back with one arm. “I keep this in the car for emergencies, but I think a sleepy girl qualifies.”

Rey blushed. Was he—was he _flirting_ with her? She accepted the blanket—its green-and-brown plaid pattern reminding her of warm flannel shirts—and marveled at its softness. She placed her food on the dashboard and wiggled under the comforting fabric.

“Thanks.”

“Mhm hm.” Kylo glanced over at her food. “Eat up,” he told her, “you’re going to need your strength.”

Rey paused for a moment, a little tendril of uncertain fear curling in her belly. _Huh?_

“Sorry?”

The man turned towards her and held eye contact. She shuddered at the intensity. “For your new life, of course.”

“Oh.” She felt a little stupid to have tensed up, forcing herself to relax, “Right. Of course.”

Rey pulled the meal back onto her lap and resumed eating. She shoveled fries into her mouth, less self-conscious as time went on, and nibbled at the pie. He was right: it was warm and filling and _heavenly_.

Only when she had drained half her cup did he speak again.

“Rey,” Kylo started, keeping his voice calm and measured, “If I may ask—I hope it’s not rude of me—were you… running away?”

Rey winced and laced her fingers together, squeezing lightly. _It was okay. She could trust him_.

“I—yeah. Something like that.”

The man nodded once. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I—well, honestly, I was escaping from someone.”

One of Kylo’s brows raised. “Are you sure you don’t need me to call someone?”

“There’s no one to call,” the girl muttered sadly.

He moved to rest a large palm above one of her knees. He squeezed it gently. “I’m sorry.”

“I—” she stared at the place where their bodies met, felt her cheeks flushing again, “It’s okay.”

They sat like this for a while: Rey curled up in the heated passenger’s seat, cuddled under her blanket, Kylo staring intently at the road ahead, brushing his fingertips over her thigh.

It felt nice, somehow—comforting and familiar—and Rey found herself yawning more and more frequently, eyes becoming heavy. She blinked rapidly a few times, trying to keep them open.

“Tired?”

She nodded, suppressing another large yawn. Her eyes swam, her vision starting to grey out at the edges.

“Why were you running away?”

Rey blinked again, rubbing at her eyes. “I—I had this guardian. He wasn’t a good man.”

“No?” the man asked quietly. “Did he fuck you?”

Rey’s hands paused in place. Her whole body went stiff. Her eyes widened, pupils dilating.

_“What?”_

“Did he fuck you? Were you running away because he fucked you?”

She _gaped_. A deep sense of danger flooded into her stomach; her veins chilled. She shivered again despite the warmth all around her.

Rey sat up slowly, her mouth still dropped open. Her head _spun_.

“I—I—” she struggled to find the words— _any_ words. “Kylo. I don’t—” she blinked, the grey in her vision closing in. “ _I don’t feel well_.”

“Mhm,” the man hummed, picking up a bottle of water from his cupholder and cracking its seal open. “Here, honey. Drink this.”

“I—” Rey started, her stomach churning. “I really don’t feel well—”

Kylo hushed the panicking girl, setting the water into her hands. She tried to raise it to her mouth, but her hands shook too violently. He sighed softly, pulled over onto the shoulder, and took the bottle in his own.

“Honestly,” he scolded, “You’re such a messy girl—”

He raised the water to her lips; she swallowed it obediently. Their eyes locked. Hers were blown open, fear written deep into them.

“ _Kylo, I_ —”

“Shhh.”

“ _Please_ —”

“You’ll feel better soon,” she heard him murmur, his hand returning to her thigh. He stroked over it once, twice, her vision fading to black as old pop hits played in the background.

_People killing, people dying, children hurtin and hear them crying. Can you practice what you preach? Would you turn the other cheek? Father, Father, Father help us—_


	2. Want

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What an overwhelming response to the first chapter; thank you so much! I hope to deliver creepiness once a week on Sundays. Thank you for all your comments, they are my lifeblood.

Rey had only one thought when she woke: _warm_.

Her eyes fluttered, eyelids feeling too heavy to open. Her limbs felt heavy, too, her mind sluggish. She laid there a while, listening to her own breathing or to the heartbeat she could feel in her ears. Rey nestled into the soft bedding, relishing in the way it molded to her form and retained her heat. It was so _odd_ : her bed had never felt this nice before. Unkar had simply retrieved a mattress from the junk yard and thrown it at her, bed bugs and all. This time, she woke up without bites down her arms, without the nipping sensation of microscopic suckers on her skin.

She frowned, still half-asleep, and rolled her head to rest on the cool side of the pillow.

“Ah, sleeping beauty awakes.”

Rey jumped at the voice. Any illusion she had of resting in her own bed evaporated in an instant.

Her eyes flew open. Something twisted painfully into her gut, a lightning bolt of equal parts fear and disbelief zapping her system.

“I—” she started, voice cracking on the word. Her mouth was already beginning to run dry.

The man across from her sat in a metal folding chair, one long leg crossed over the other. He thumbed at a book, holding his place somewhere in the middle. “You’ve been out a long time. Little girl must have needed her rest.”

Rey opened her mouth to ask any one of the billion turning questions or curse words burning in her brain. Instead, she found herself at a loss for words. She stared, open-mouthed, at the man she had once been relieved to see.

Her relief had morphed into nothing less than a nightmare.

His long, lean lines were relaxed; he leaned back in the chair. His head cocked to one side as she stared at him, spilling coiffed black hair partially over his left cheek. A black button-down rested over a dark undershirt, the sleeves rolled up his forearms. Rey found herself deeply resenting the part of herself that longed to find out what the material felt like.

Similarly dark jeans covered his legs, which ended in a shined pair of deep brown dress shoes. He looked like he belonged to an entirely different world—somewhere that wasn’t here, that wasn’t a—

a—

“Where am I?” she breathed with a tremor in her voice.

The man— _Kylo_ —only blinked. “You’re my guest.”

Rey huffed through her nose. Anger stirred within her; she wanted to lash out—wanted to leap up and strangle him—but her limbs refused to cooperate. A shiver wracked her body as she realized she barely had the strength to lift her arms.

“I can’t—I can’t— _What did you do to me_?”

She’d intended to scream it. Instead, the words came out a soft whimper.

_Pathetic, Rey. You’re pathetic._

Kylo smiled knowingly—a smile that held a fondness that made her turn her nose up in disgust.

“Don’t be afraid,” he breathed soothingly, “it’s a normal side-effect.”

Rey’s face scrunched.

“A normal side-effect of _what_?”

The man didn’t answer. Instead, he stood, surveying her, walking slowly down the length of the mattress.

She shivered in the crosshairs of his gaze. Her eyes darted around the room, taking in the scene before her. Rey tried to commit all the details to memory. There were gray walls on all four sides. The room was small and rectangular. Her heart sank with every new observation.

There were no windows.  

Sections were lined with white markings, carved into the concrete haphazardly—

The man sighed, his feet planting themselves near her head.

“Comfortable?”

Her knows knit together, blinking once through the tears she was _so_ frustrated were forming—

The markings were thin, sets of four all parallel to each other. Her stomach flipped; the pressure behind her eyes grew, and she felt a single, hot tear stream down the side of her temple. The markings stopped somewhere around six feet up.

Rey hardly managed the words, only breaths away from hyperventilating.

“Are those—” she hiccupped, gasping for air, “ _Are_ — are those—”

Kylo followed her gaze and made a face. He was at her side the next moment, one knee touching the ground; a large, warm hand caressed her cheek.

“Shhh, shhh,” his smooth voice dropped to a whisper, “don’t worry, baby,” he murmured reassuringly, petting her hair, “Don’t worry. All your bedding is fresh. I bought it all new, just for you—”

The man bent over, pressing a hot kiss to her temple, wiping away the tear that had been there. He pressed one knee into the mattress, then the other, moving to lie down on his side next to her.

Rey’s stomach churned harder than before; she barely suppressed the urge to gag. He wrapped one arm around her, using the other to prop himself up.

“Shhh, shhh,” he repeated. “See, we have a nice foam topper here,” the gripped the layer of bedding above the mattress, somewhere to her side. “And nice, new sheets, just for you. I even got you this,” he gestured to the thick, heavy gray blanket on top of her. “It’s a weighted blanket, sweetheart. Do you know how expensive these are?” He made a faint noise in his throat as if thinking about something. “But when I saw it, I just knew—” he trailed off for a moment, brushing his fingertips over her hair, brushing it out of her face, “…just knew I knew when I saw it that you needed one. It’ll keep you nice and warm. Whenever you need a hug, you can just snuggle under it, and—”

Rey sobbed harder. A sickly feeling crept up her spine.

“Oh, baby,” Kylo murmured—it pissed her off to no end that there was _sympathy_ in his voice— “I hope you’ll forgive me for leaving you alone to go shopping.”

He had pressed closer, pulling her side flush against him. His thumb brushed over her shoulder as if he was trying to comfort her.

“Truthfully, I wasn’t ready for you. But I just knew— _just knew_ when I saw you by the side of the road.” He took a long drag of air, lungs expanding next to her. “You looked so sweet. So lonely. So afraid to leave—but you ran right into my arms. How was I to resist? I even considered dropping you in Seattle for real, maybe. But I knew as soon as you started talking to me—when you said you had a favorite kind of _tree_ —that you were too precious to let go.”

Kylo smoothed over the sobbing girl’s hair again, tucking the offending strands behind her ear. “I just knew you had to be special on the inside.”

Rey found herself wheezing, her breath coming out in strange, tangled sobs. She swallowed the mucus pooling at the back of her throat and coughed once, twice. She considered trying to wriggle out of his grasp, but she knew it would be a futile effort. There was no getting away from him, not in this room. She didn’t even need to cast a glance at the door to know it was bolted shut.

Instead, she shivered, even swaddled in all the warm bedding he seemed so strangely proud of. Her skin crawled with every touch, stomach refusing to settle.

“I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me anything about—” she hiccupped again.

“All you need to know is that you’re here now.”

Rey pressed her lips into a thin line. Then she closed her eyes. The tears that had pooled in her waterlines escaped all at once, flooding the sides of her face. She felt the large pads of soft, warm fingers wipe one trail away, then the other.

“I know, baby. I know. This must be so hard for you.”

The man settled onto the pillow, too, his head creating a divot that forced her closer. The arm that had propped him up snaked under her shoulders, cradling her, the other tracing the sharp outline of her collar bone.

“So small,” he murmured, his hand trailing lower. Rey held her breath, silently begging for death. “Even smaller than I thought,” he breathed into her ear, his voice somehow buttery and seductive even now. She shivered at the sharp contrast that was the man. The warm press of his hand dipped below the blanket, between her breasts, down to her stomach and—

And—

And—

And Rey realized he was touching bare skin all the way down.

Her lips parted in silent horror.

“How long have I been passed out?”

A small smirk spread across his features.

“A while.”

Kylo stroked the soft skin of her belly for a moment, thumb rubbing in the little hollow that formed below her lungs. “So thin, little Rey.” The large hand trailed closer to her side—

“Ribs that stick out everywhere, sharp little hipbones.” He made a sound somewhere low in his throat. “You need to eat more, little Rey. But don’t worry,” he pinched her skin and smoothed over the mark just the same, “I’ll fix it. I _am_ sorry about the fast food, by the way. It feels so unfair that that be our first meal together…”

He trailed off, no doubt on another tangent. Rey had already partially zoned out of his monologue. Or maybe she was disassociating; she could only hope.

“Imagine my surprise,” he murmured, breath hot in her ear again. He nipped at her earlobe, making her jump in his arms, which only wrapped tighter, “when I peeled off all those layers. I thought surely you had a necklace or bracelet on under that jacket. They all do. Or maybe a piercing somewhere. _Something_. Imagine my surprise when I found nothing. No jewelry, not anywhere.”

He fell silent for a moment, nuzzling into her hair. He inhaled deeply; she choked.

“Hasn’t anyone ever loved you, little Rey?”

That— _that_ , above all else—hurt. She flinched as if burned, the flood of tears springing up in her eyes again, hot and persistent.

“I know, baby,” he pressed a kiss to her scalp somewhere, “I know. But now you have me. Now you have me,” he murmured softly, rubbing from the curve of her waist down past her hip, down past—

A moan—or maybe it was more of a cry—escaped her hips as a thick finger slid between her folds. It parted them, tracing down her slit to her entrance, then back up.

“—and I’ll keep a part of you with me forever.”

He pressed the pads of two thick fingers into the apex of her slit, rubbing the little button of flesh there in firm circles. Rey went to squirm—to move, to escape, _anything_ —but he held her tight, swallowing hard against her shoulder.

She wasn’t sure if the whispers to _give in, let this be easy_ were his, or her own coping mechanisms, and she didn’t care. She pressed her eyes shut, did her best to pretend this was all just a terrible dream, and tried to only feel.

“So many little cuts and bruises on you, Rey,” he breathed, lips pressing against her neck. “It took me forever to bandage them all.”

The hand that had been playing with her clit stopped for a moment, grabbing the top layer and dragging it aside. She whined when she felt the cold air of the room on her thighs, still too exhausted to manage moving her legs.

“Look, Rey. I want you to watch.”

It took a few moments—and a swat between her legs—to convince her, but she finally looked down, resigned to watching his hand slip into her chestnut curls, spread her, and—

Rey blinked once, twice, three times before the foreign noise came out of her mouth.

She managed a distinctly-not-silent scream this time.

There, were she expected a mound of hair to match the ones on her head, she saw only her own dewy skin.

“You—you—”

“I shaved you. You have a nice, bare cunt now.”

Something in the pit of her stomach bottomed out; she shivered and did her best to embrace the impending feeling of numbness.

“Watch me, Rey,” the man breathed, suckling her ear, as his finger slid easily between her folds, again rubbing patterns over her clit.

Rey resisted the urge to keep her eyes closed and obeyed instead. She gritted her teeth and forced her hips to stay down, even as his fingers worked themselves faster to draw out a response.

“I thought I’d go make us some dinner,” he said casually. “Is there something you’d like?”

The girl shook her head; she didn’t want anything at all.

“Steak, little Rey? I have a whole salmon from Pike Place upstairs. Or maybe a rotisserie chicken? I could go out and get one—” her eyes swam a little, maybe from delirium, maybe from hunger.

Rey felt her head loll to the side where it came to rest against the man’s shoulder.

His touch slowed. She was only vaguely aware when he pulled away, when he stood, when he left.

 

* * *

 

 

The man stomped down the narrow hallway later that night, ducking under the swinging light that desperately needed a bulb change. He stooped and inserted a key in the door, silently praising himself for such thorough sound-proofing.

He took a single step into the very last room.

“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting for so long.”


	3. Mahogany

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long silence, I'll try to update more frequently. Thank you for reading.
> 
> Also, mind the tags.

Rey had stood as soon as she was able and, naturally, had searched for a way out. She tried the door first, just on the minute chance that her captor had somehow managed to forget to lock it. She tapped on the thick, white stones lining the walls next; none budged.

She circled the room only a few times: Rey refused to drive herself insane just yet. She needed mental fortitude for whatever battle was to come.

Satisfied that there was no immediate way out, she grabbed the edge of the thick mattress and hauled it, painstakingly, muscles aching, to the corner of the room. There, she plopped down onto the obnoxiously-soft bedding, planting her naked back against the cold wall behind her. She shivered, but only once; she wrapped the weighted blanket around her, scowled, and resolved to wait.

 

* * *

 

 

Rey was jolted out of the realm of filmy daydreams—or maybe she had been sleeping, she couldn’t quite tell—when the heavy bolt within the door slid aside.

He— _he_ —stepped in, tall and golden-tanned as she’d remembered. He carried himself as if he was lanky, polo-clad shoulders slumping over a little, seeming almost too large for his form. His hair was tucked behind his ears today; he looked younger.

“Sleep well?”

Rey averted her glare, hoping that she might forget she had ever looked at him in the first place.

“Mhm,” he hummed, turning with his upper body to close the door behind him. “Me neither.”

The clack of rubber soles on concrete echoed through the otherwise silent room. Rey counted the steps, pulling the blanket tighter around her. She closed her eyes.

“Are you hungry? Thirsty?”

Then, a moment later, “Do you need the bathroom?”

Rey didn’t quite manage to suppress the shiver that ran down her spine; she shook with it, sucking in a soft hiss of air. He chuckled.

“No,” she said quickly, embarrassed. “I only want to go home.”

 “You don’t have a home. You were running away from a man who abused you. You stood on the side of a road and begged perfect strangers for help.”

Rey did her best to ignore the hot tear that slid down the side of her nose and onto her lip.

Kylo, meanwhile, paced to the door.

“Come. I’ll take you to the bathroom.”

Only the heavy press of her bladder was enough to make Rey glance up at him.

_You should be stronger than this._

She managed a jerky shake of the head. “No.”

“I’ll just cath you if you refuse. I won’t have you getting an infection.”

A beat passed; Rey refused to move.

“ _Come_.”

She stood—slowly, shakily, hating herself—and took a single step forward.

“Not with the blanket.”

Rey swallowed hard. The heaviness of her bladder felt even worse standing up; she pressed her legs together awkwardly, squeezing her eyes closed for some shred of dignity as she allowed the fabric to drop.

She wrapped her arms around herself, covering her tits.

“Come on,” he repeated. He held the door open—a sight she thought she might never see—and gestured her ahead.

Rey allowed her legs— _too thin, like sticks; knees too knobby_ —to carry her forward. She hesitated when she realized he wouldn’t be leading the way.

“Go on.”

The shakes gripping her intensified; a sick sense grew steadily in her stomach. She took a step forward, then two, before looking pointedly over her shoulder.

He smiled.

She shivered again, her own shoulders hunched over now, ass cheeks clenching as she forced herself to step forward in a chilly, narrow, dark hallway. The floor stung her feet with cold; she could barely see the door at the end.

“First door on your left.”

Rey took another shaky step. She felt like an abused dog, kept on a tight leash by its master, fearful that it might be kicked again at any moment.

She was two steps from the door when she froze. Strong and pungent, a scent wafted from the crack underneath it.

Bleach.

“Open it.”

Rey remained frozen, trembling harder than ever. Her lungs rattled as she drew in breath; warmth stung her eyes, prickling tears forming within them.

“Please,” she managed to form with her lips; no sound came out.

“Open it.”

“I don’t want t— _to_ —”

“Open. It.”

She reached out, slowly, heart pounding, for the door knob. Her fingers closed around it, cold and metal. It trembled with her, turning slowly under her pressure as she pleaded with him.

“Please—"

“ _Christ_.”

 He closed the gap in one stride, pushed the door open, and flicked on a light.

A simple bathroom stared back at her, flimsy light flickering a few times before settling.

Rey stared ahead; no torture chamber stared back.

“Go on, then,” he said simply.

She forced air into her lungs and took another step forward, forcing her feet to cooperate. Small tiles wiggled beneath her toes, somehow even colder than the concrete of her room or the metal of the hall. Several crumbled at the edges, brown dirt caked into the squares.

The whole room looked like it might need a good washing—yet the clear scent of bleach stung the inside of her nose, working its way into her sinuses.

Rey fought the urge to sneeze.

She tiptoed over to the foam-green toilet at the far corner of the room, somehow worried she might cause further damage to the floor, when she realized.

She looked up—too quickly, her neck objecting to the whiplash—and glared at his form, leaning carefree against the frame of the door.

“Privacy.”

“No.”

She stared at him, willing herself to win a battle she knew to be impossible.

“Be my guest,” he gestured.

Rey allowed herself a few moments longer to imagine all kinds of terrible things happening to him. Then she sat, slowly, thighs protesting the cold, on the cool ring of the toilet.

She picked a tile across from her and bored a hole into it, staring intensely as she willed herself to get it over with.

A long, uncomfortable stretch of silence passed.

It became even worse when he took a few steps forward, nearing her.

“Pee shy?”

“You’re despicable.”

“It’s okay, honey, it happens to the best of us. Here,” he flipped one side of the faucet on, two fingers under the stream of water. “I learned this when I did my pediatrics rotation—”

He grasped her hand—seemingly with ease, even when she fought him—and forced her fingers under a stream of warm water.

“There. That should be better.”

It was.

She wished it wasn’t.

Rey swallowed the last bit of her pride, covering her breasts with her other hand, as she finally managed the task. Her eyes stung again; her thighs, too. She stared into her lap.

Rey finished a long moment later, slumping forward a little in relief. She pulled her hand back quickly, as if burned.

“There we go,” his voice murmured from somewhere above her, “All better now.”

Her eyes darted from wall to wall in search of toilet paper. They finally rested on him, resigned to defeat, when a worse realization crept over her. There, in his hand, was a roll; in his other hand, several neatly folded squares.

“No.”

“Rey—” he started, taking a step forward.

“No.”

“— _be good_ —” he had closed the space between them—

“ _NO._ ”

Warm hands closed around the small of her back. He yanked her up easily; she fought as hard as she could manage against it. She threw punches and kicked her legs out from beneath her. She landed several good ones—ones that surely would’ve hurt if she was a hundred pounds heavier—but he acted as if he barely felt them.

He grappled with her, easily deflecting her attacks, only for a few seconds longer. Then, pinning her against his side with one hand, seemingly crushing the air out of her lungs, she felt his other hand press between her legs.

“No.”

She had choked the word out.

“Shhh.” The man parted her labia. “Shhh.”

“ _No_.”

“Shhh. Shhh. It’s okay.”

Rey went limp, every inch of her skin feeling cold and clammy. She felt herself pressing closer to him, to the tanned skin of his neck. She felt herself rest her head—suddenly heavier than anything—on his shoulder.

He cooed at her.

She felt him dab the tissue gently between her legs.

“Please.”

“Shhh.”

He smelled like teakwood.


	4. Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey meets the real Kylo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not going to make excuses for this, because there aren't any. 
> 
> Also: review the motherfucking tags. There are new ones, and there are big CW/TWs for this chapter. Don't blame me. Honestly, no one squeamish should be reading this.
> 
> SERIOUSLY, READ THE MOTHERFUCKING TAGS. 
> 
> I don't condone any real-life non-con or violence.

Rey squirms out of his grasp and backs herself up against the wall of her cell as soon as she can manage. The concrete slabs press cold into the small of her back, which has warmed from being pressed up against him so tightly.

His hands—they had been there. They had pressed into her sides, caressed her back, held her in place with impossible strength, dipped between her legs. They had been _everywhere_.

“You’re a monster.”

The man smiles from the entryway, body poised between the heavy metal door and its frame. He looks handsome like this; it makes her feel sick.

“Yes I am." There's a pause, then a warm smile that makes her sick. "Be right back.”

The door closes with a heaviness that plants dread in her gut, leaving Rey on her own once more. She isn’t sure how long he’ll be gone. She has little sense of time here in the room. It passes mysteriously, no clock to guide her, no light from outside to indicate the time of day. She thinks he left her for over a day before.

She doesn’t want to risk it: she can’t assume he’ll be gone for long. Quickly, she crosses the cramped room, grabbing hold of the metal folding chair that he taunted her from. The book that rested there falls onto the floor, his place lost in its tumble.

She doesn’t pick it up.

She backs up, heel catching on the edge of the mattress, until she feels the relative safety of the wall again. Then she waits, quietly, listening to nothing but her own breathing.

She hears no sound outside before she sees the handle turn. The door swings open with a confidence that startles her. She rears back and kicks off the concrete, running with all her might towards the entrance—or, she hopes, the _exit_.

Hope dies quickly. Kylo snarls, deep and threatening, a scowl contorting his face. The features that usually strike her as disarmingly handsome sneer and transform into the look of death itself. He drops an item; she hears it meet the ground, heavy with a dull _thunk_ , but has no time to look. Her heart pounds in her chest—hard enough that she thinks she may die from a heart attack before he can do anything to hurt her.

One large, warm hand closes with bone-breaking strength around her wrist. The other strikes with lightning speed, grabbing one leg of the chair before it can slam into his chest. He yanks— _hard_ —and rips it out of her hands.

He tosses the chair against the wall, the sound of metal slamming on cement making her cringe. A loose screw disconnects from one of the joints and clatters to the floor. The chair folds in on itself and falls.

The two meet eyes, brown eyes searching brown eyes, and a moment of quiet passes after the relative chaos. He breathes, deep, just once. Then his lips press together, and he leans in so his face is closer to hers.

“That was a mistake, Rey.”

Hot tears prickle at the edge of her eyes. Another warm hand closes around her second wrist, securing them both. He pulls them up, up towards his chest, straining her shoulders uncomfortably in their sockets.

She can barely manage the words when she tries to speak. “I know,” she attempts, voice coming out silent at first, then broken, then cracking and returning to silence. “I’m sorry.”

The man shakes his head. The waves of his hair shift, framing the angry face that stares down at her. “It’s too late.”

Rey finds herself shaking her head back at him, one tear slipping out the side of her waterline. “No,” she pleads, “It’s not. Kylo, it’s not. Please.”

Anger is replaced by a stoic, cool calm. It spreads over his features slowly like a cancer, destroying all hints of emotion in its wake. Somehow, he looks even more frightening this way, devoid of anything at all. He lets her wrists go and bends to pick up the item he dropped.

Rey backs up quickly, rubbing at wrists that have already managed to bruise. She tries to rotate one, wincing when it won’t quite move the way she wants.

“Kylo, _please_.”

“Be quiet, Rey.”

His words are a deadly quiet, too, equally as measured as his expression.

She presses herself into the corner, arms wrapping around her naked form once more. Thighs, still stung raw, press together. Her newly shaved skin feels especially nipped by the cold like this.

“Please.”

The man straightens up, locking the door once more behind him.

“I didn’t want to do this just yet, Rey. But it seems I was wrong about you.”

“No— _Kylo_ —please. Please, you weren’t wrong about me, you weren’t wrong. I promise, you weren’t.”

Rey hiccups with desperation, chest rising and falling with the panic that swells under her sternum and festers in her belly.

He says nothing, only glances down into his hands.

He holds a cardboard box. It’s relatively small and frayed at the very top, sides stamped with the Home Depot logo. Rey swallows, hard. He digs around for a moment, eyes jumping once to hers, before focusing on the contents within.

He pulls something small out, palm dwarfing whatever it is. He shifts the item in his hand, gripping the base of it, presses something on the side, and—

And—

And the blade pops out.

“ _Kylo_ ,” Rey pleads again, somehow even more desperate this time. She can hardly breathe, the air is so suffocating in her lungs. “ _Fuck, please, Kylo, please_ —”

“Do what I say, Rey.”

She can only nod, frantically, with every bit of energy she has. Yes, she’ll obey him. She’ll do anything he wants, anything at all.

He stares for a long moment, eyes boring into her with an intensity that makes her chill to her toes.

“Lay down on the mattress.”

She does, of course. She moves as soon as the words register a half-beat after he utters them, dropping quickly to her knees and onto the soft material below.

“On your stomach.”

She pauses, sucking a breath of air in, and flips over onto her stomach. Her cheek presses into the pillow, also soft, offering her a gentle sort of comfort that she knows is mistaken.

She watches him, eyes glued to his form, as he advances on her. He’s picked new items out of the box. He grips a set of headphones in the other hand along with—and her heart leaps, if only for a moment—a phone.

Heavy footsteps, dull with their weight, move towards her. He pauses a few feet from her, tilting his head so he gazes down at her.

“I’m going to rape you, Rey.”

She presses her eyes closed. She feels all the tears that built shed, now, heat running down ruddy cheeks and cooling on the skin there.

“I know." She chokes on her tears.

“Good. Good girl.”

He moves, slowly, gracefully, to kneel on either side of her legs, which press together with all her might. His knees cause the mattress to dip around her, giving in to weight that settles warm and solid above her.

Cool plastic presses against one of her ears as he fits the headphones over them.

“Kylo,” she breathes, carefully, as he adjusts the band. One ear remains free. “ _Please_ —the knife—”

“I won’t use it if you’re good.”

She swallows the spit that’s gathered in her mouth.

“Please, then—” she begs, desperate to retain situational awareness, “let me hear. Please. I need,” she sniffles, “my senses.”

The man poised above her goes silent for a long time. It feels uncomfortable at first and only grows more oppressive with every deafening second.

“Kylo?”

“Rey. I don’t think you want to hear this.”

Rey blinks once, twice. She swallows again.

“Hear what?”

The man sighs, heavily, and plants a hand on her back. Behind her, he thumbs the side of the phone with one hand, then taps the screen.

A video plays, though she can’t see it. Only the audio travels to meet her.

The hairs on the back of her neck stand up immediately, even before it happens.

She hears a woman screaming: absolute, deafening, ear-splitting screaming, the kind someone makes only when confronting death. They’re the kind of screams that beg for life—or, maybe, for its end. At first, it’s at the top of her lungs. It’s high-pitched, and shrill, and sounds like a wild animal vocalizing terrible pain.

Then, over time, as the tape plays on, it transforms into something more guttural—the kind of scream that shreds vocal cords and leaves nothing at all behind.

The words, if there were any, are unintelligible. There’s no exchange here; no words spoken by the woman, no coherent begging. Only wails, raw and hysterical, reduced to the most animal form.

He thumbs the pause button.

Rey blinks, eyes staring ahead at the wall across from her. Her lids drift briefly over the wet spot on the pillow. Her tears had pooled there, soaking the material through. The fabric presses damp and cool against her skin.

This time, she doesn’t object when he moves to secure the headphones onto her. She ignores, as best she can, how he’s grown hard on top of her.

She doesn’t hear the zipper of his jeans, nor the rustling of his clothing and boxers as he strips it all off. She only feels the press of skin—his belly against her back, his knees between her thighs, the head of his cock in her folds.

Rey lays there, entirely numb, as the man shoves himself into her. She’s dry at first; the slight tearing of her inner walls makes her, somehow, grateful—grateful for the feeling of any sensation at all. It’s all she can feel: him taking her, over and over again.

She feels his hand close around her shoulder and drag her back onto his length. He feels the strain of his pelvis as he grinds it into her, coercing wetness. She feels the stutter in his hips as he slams his cock—human, somehow, veined and velvety—into her, hitting her cervix, driving her up the mattress.

She knows, too, that he’s playing the tape. He’s listening to it. She doesn’t know it, but he’s watching it, too, somewhere above her.

The pace changes as he approaches climax. It becomes more brutal than before, faster, the muscles in the smooth expanse of his thighs straining for release.

When he comes, the headphones cancel that sound, too.

The man sets the phone down beside her, then the pocket knife. Its blade hasn’t been retracted yet. It still stares, a silent threat facing her down. The headphones come off a moment later, her hair flopping over her over cheek when she moves to stare blankly at the wall.

Kylo pulls out of her, unceremoniously, and rolls off her. She barely notices when he stands up, when things rustle behind her. He pulls his boxers back on, then his jeans, then his shirt. He tucks the items away, flicking the blade back into its handle, and closes the flaps of cardboard on top of the box.

Rey draws her knees to her chest. She moves to circle them with her arms, which she locks around them. Her eyes focus on a seam in the concrete until they cross.

She’s vaguely away of him leaving (the door closes) and returning (the door closes again). The drag of the metal chair on cement like nails on chalkboard, the noises of a screw being driven into a joint—she hears it all, loud and empty at once, filling her ears.

She hears him sit. The pages of the book rustle as he turns to his place.  

She doesn’t ask the title. She doesn’t care to know. She doesn’t even care to pull the blanket at her toes up around her freezing body, the body she was once so desperate to cover.

“You know,” he says simply, wetting his thumb to turn another page, “I do think I have a preference for warm pussy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry.


End file.
